


But we are alive

by heavvymetalqueen



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dissociative Identity Disorder, M/M, did you know wolfdogs live over 15 years, they're married in alaska and everything is fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-31 06:25:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12676203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavvymetalqueen/pseuds/heavvymetalqueen
Summary: Ocelot knew it was crazy. It was impossible. People like him never really had a choice. Were never free. He was just going to get Kaz killed, get both him and Catherine slaughtered.But he wanted it.And when had he ever done something because he desperately wanted it?Never.Until now.





	But we are alive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goodnightfern](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodnightfern/gifts).



> fulfilling wish #216: OLD MEN IN ALASKA RAISING CATHERINE MILLER and also they have DOGS and go FISHING and maybe TEACH CATHY HOW TO SHOOT and also they are MARRIED and everything is okay. they are in love and they are happy and wish to be left alone in the wilderness.

“Dad dad dad dad dad!”

Bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce.

“Dad dad dad dad dad!”

Bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce.

Ocelot groans. “What is it, chickpea.”

“Dad! It snowed!”

“Ah. Guess it’s time to go make the first snowman, then?” He grips her small knees as she’s mid bounce on the mattress, topples her over, and tickles her until she’s squealing. “Maybe I should just roll you in snow until you’re a biiiig ball, and then use that for a snowman!”

“No! Noooo!”

“Yessss! You can’t escape!”

She laughs until she’s crying, kicking and wriggling, then Ocelot lets her go to sit up. “Come on, get your dad and put on your winter clothes. You’ve been waiting to wear them for months, haven’t you?”

She rolls off the bed. “You gotta come too!”

“I am, I am.”

He listens to the happy sound of small feet slapping on the carpeted wood and then gets up. He’s a little stiff, and it’s way too early for a Sunday, but it did snow. It’s time to go make a snowman.

By the time he’s dressed and made it to the hallway, Kaz has already wrapped Catherine in her bright pink and teal snow suit and she’s practically vibrating.

It is the first time she gets to see the snow, after all. Her first winter with them.

Their first winter together since 1984, for that matter.

They watch her run out into snow that’s as high as her hip and flop face down into it with a squeal of delight. From the porch, it looks incredible; the same blinding crispness Ocelot remembers from Russia, the few things he remembers of Russia he still loves. The trees are heavy with snow, and the sun glitters over their yard like it’s covered in ground diamonds.

DD slips outside between them, hobbling into the snow for his favorite human of his sunset days.

Kaz puts his arm around Ocelot’s back, cool titanium fingers resting on his hip. “Told you it was worth getting through fall for.”

“Hmm. Still unconvinced. You will have to make me a _really_ big snowman.”

Kaz laughs, and steps off the porch to join his daughter and dog.

Ocelot hesitates for a second, and then joins his family as well.

***

“Stay,” said Kaz, his real hand tight on Ocelot’s shoulder.

Zanzibar Land was still smoldering, Ocelot was very tired, and Kaz was very warm.

“I can probably stretch out another couple of days.”

“No. Stay for good.”

“Kaz.” He turned onto his stomach to face him. “I’m not done yet.”

“When are you going to be done? When you’re dead? You need to stop. And stop now.”

Ocelot rested his forehead against Kaz’s. “I don’t have a choice.”

“You do.” Kaz ran calloused fingers through his hair. “I’m giving this choice to you, right now.”

“There’s still so much to do.”

“And three young men who deserve to take their destiny in their hands who can do it. It’s why we did all this, isn’t it? To leave the fight to them.”

Ocelot drew himself up, holding tight to Kaz. “They’ll never let me leave.”

“Then we’ll hide. Fake your death. _Something_. You protected me for thirty years, Ocelot. Let me protect you too.”

Ocelot knew it was crazy. It was impossible. People like him never really had a choice. Were never free. He was just going to get Kaz killed, get both him and Catherine slaughtered.

But he _wanted_ it.

And when had he ever done something because he desperately wanted it?

Never.

Until now.

***

The TV is on while Kaz prepares a late breakfast for everybody and Ocelot and Catherine dry DD with a towel so he doesn’t catch a cold.

Ocelot catches a snippet of an announcer mentioning the recent terrorist attack claimed by the Three Headed Snake before Catherine demands to watch cartoons.

“You’re right,” he says, changing the channel. “The news are boring.”

The triplets should be coming over for the holidays soon enough, anyway.

“Don’t sit that close to the TV,” says Kaz, almost absently, carrying their rice omelets into the living room.

“Fiiiine,” sighs Catherine, hopping onto the couch before digging in.

She’s back into her snow suit with DD at her beck and call as Kaz and Ocelot are still finishing their food, bouncing up and down excitedly.

“Yes, you can go out again,” says Ocelot. “But don’t go too far and be careful. The snow hides holes and you could fall in.”

“I’ll be fine!” she chirps. “DD is with me! Right DD?”

DD woofs in agreement.

Ocelot whistles low, and DD’s artillery-frayed ears perk up. “Don’t let the boss out of your sight,” he says with a hint of a drawl. DD stands straighter, looking almost like the loyal killing machine he used to be rather than the old mutt he is these days. His joints are starting to creak and he can’t run like he used to - but Ocelot is confident Catherine won’t have to lose her dog for a while yet.

“And be back before dark!” yells Kaz after her as the door slams. “Well, there she goes.”

“I hope she’ll be all right. Snow can be dangerous.”

“She and DD know the area like the back of her hand by now and she’s eight. She can’t get in that much trouble.”

Ocelot makes a low pitched worried noise.

Kaz distracts him by running his fingers up his thigh. “On the upside, we get the whole afternoon to ourselves.”

“Why, mr. Miller, are you trying to seduce me?” He puts his plate on the coffee table before straddling Kaz’s legs.

“Yes, mr. Miller. I definitely am,” says Kaz, and kisses him.

***

Disappearing was easier than they thought. It was the right time. John was dead, and everybody expected Ocelot to grieve. They weren’t expecting how much he’d grieve. He broke down, had screaming nightmares, missed shots a child could have taken blindfolded. Forgot important intel, people’s names. Talked to people that weren’t there. It was clear Ocelot had lost his last shred of sanity along with Big Boss.

Ocelot had always been a really good actor. And V had been a great study material.

Anderson was the one who told him to take some time off, meaning _go away and don’t come back, you’re a liability_. Ocelot tried to put up a fight, he could still work, he could still get the job done. But the Patriots didn’t trust him anymore. They were ready to leave the ghosts of the nineties behind them and move into the new millennium without the massive weight of Big Boss’ outdated legacy dragging them down - nor his ridiculous, senile boyfriend.

And so Revolver Ocelot left the Patriots for good. Nobody cared where he went, as long as he wasn’t trouble. He’d earned retirement without elimination, if nothing else.

Kaz was waiting for him at the airport that day, with a large suitcase at his feet and a sleepy Catherine on his hip.

“I hear Alaska is lovely this time of the year,” said Ocelot, so tired he could cry.

“It will be,” said Kaz, and kissed him right in front of the whole airport.

It took Ocelot months to get used to the fact they weren’t hiding anymore, well after they got married.

***

Kaz can lift him and carry him into the bedroom, which never, ever fails to get to Ocelot. He still remembers, clear as day, when Kaz was too weak to get out of bed, when a staircase would make him vomit from exhaustion. And now he can stand up with Ocelot hooked to his neck and waist and throw him bodily onto their bed.

His bionic is cool under his sweater, his hand is warm into his pants.

They are both scarred, their skin is starting to get loose in spots. Their ugly farmer tans haven’t entirely faded yet. They both have started to build up love handles - it’s the first time Ocelot has been above his recommended BMI in his entire life.

And they’re _still_ completely crazy for each other like they were in the seventies, like Kaz is still the strapping cutthroat cutie Ocelot fell head over boner for the second he stepped in his office. Like Ocelot is still sharp like a razor and platinum blonde, as if exhaustion and drugs haven’t aged him twice as fast as Kaz.

Kaz buries his face between Ocelot’s legs, takes his cock in his mouth and sucks him off just like he likes it, messy and sloppy and gurgling with how much he loves to choke on it. Climbs over him when he’s all wet and slick and fucks himself on Ocelot’s cock slowly, torturously, grinding and hitching his hips. He leans over to let his loose hair brush over Ocelot’s chest, sucks Ocelot’s scarred fingers, twists Ocelot’s nipple (the one that isn’t a mess of scars from a shotgun blast in ‘87) with his metal fingers. Squeezes him and milks an orgasm out of him when he comes on Ocelot’s stomach, throbbing in his tight fist.

It’s a long, long way from the rough, bloody, barely consensual alleyway (and office, and backseat, and hotel room) fucks of their burning years. They hold and kiss and laugh, can’t last for hours anymore, and nobody passes out. No bloodshed, no bruises, no broken bones.

Ocelot doesn’t miss it. He’s got everything he ever wanted right under this small roof.

Literally, when the door slams and Catherine calls for them.

Kaz jumps off the bed and into his discarded jeans first, leaving Ocelot to find his clothes.

“I’m hungry,” whines Catherine.

“I’ll make you a snack. Just let me put on a shirt.”

“It’s too early to go to bed,” chides Catherine sagely.

“You’re right,” says Ocelot, making a beeline for the fridge, “but we’re old and we get tired more. Do you want milk or juice?”

“Juice. Thank you.”

Ocelot pours her a glass of apple juice while Kaz makes her a sandwich. They listen, enraptured, to her adventures in the snow. She saw a bunny, and they saw their neighbor (who lives a few miles apart) already mushing down the road, and they made another snowman, and a snow woman too.

There’s still some sunlight out when she’s done with her snack, so they all go on another walk in the snow. It ends in a ruthless snowball battle, and Ocelot and Catherine’s team absolutely destroys Kaz and DD’s.

They’re all shivering when they get back, so Kaz fires up the sauna they built behind the cabin, and they sit in it until they’re shiny and pruned and warm. Catherine gets to drink a coke afterwards, while her dads sip cold beers and watch the snow start falling out the window, the fireplace crackling happily in their comfortable silence.

***

Two weeks after Ocelot left the Patriots, Solid, Liquid and Solidus Snake all received an identical package through secure channels.

It contained the truth. The truth about their origins, Big Boss, the Patriots, and everything in between. Kaz and Ocelot had spent a long, long time putting it together.

The last page contained an address, should they decide to meet their brothers and discuss what to do. It was the safest place they could manage - their cabin, still not registered to either of them and on record abandoned. It used to be a safehouse in the North they used in the early days of Foxhound. It was now slowly becoming their home.

Despite all odds, all three showed up. All four, including Eli’s companion. Psycho Mantis didn’t have the shock of red hair he had as a child, but he was still pretty striking. Not many people float a foot off the ground.

Catherine was at school, and safe. David was ecstatic to see Kaz, and George genuinely happy to see Ocelot. Eli stayed back, arms folded, until Kaz approached him and apologized for the way he’d treated him in the eighties.

“I don’t hate you, old man. Don’t sweat it,” he grunted. But he was a lot more receptive after that.

They explained all they couldn’t explain in the files. Kaz kept stressing that it was not, in any way, their responsibility to fix the mess their old men made of everything.

But they all agreed to it anyway. Ocelot gave them the contacts he’d managed to scrounge up that could help them. Eva. Gray Fox’s sister. Campbell. Huey’s kid, who could use to disappear from the Patriot radar he’d been in for his entire life. That young Russian weapons specialist that liked to show off her toys with Ocelot. Wolf and Octopus, who had never stopped being loyal to Venom. Suppliers, safehouses, informants. Old people from Diamond Dogs, Foxhound, Outer Heaven, even Zanzibar Land.

“If you need anything, we’ll have a secure channel for communication, and you are welcome here if you’re not being chased. But we can’t run direct support anymore.”

“Why not?” snorted Liquid. “Scared?”

“Yes, actually,” said Kaz, and closed his metal hand on top of Ocelot’s. “We have a daughter. We are both disabled, and getting old. If they come for us, we won’t be able to protect her. And I will not let that happen.”

And that had been that. Now the three Snakes were apparently fighting the good fight, with remarkable success, and Ocelot and Kaz were free.

And even if Kaz had grumbled that the last thing he needed was _an Emmerich in his house_ , Ocelot knew he’d been happy when David had asked if he could bring “Otacon” over for Christmas.

***

Kaz makes frozen pizza for everybody. DD whines pitifully for pepperoni. Catherine’s head is already drooping by nine, and Kaz carries her to bed.

“Are you okay?” he asks as he comes back into the living room. “You haven’t spoken in an hour.”

Ocelot shakes his head. “Tired,” he mumbles.

Kaz crouches by the couch, trails his finger for Ocelot to follow. He has trouble doing it, dizzy and nauseous, voices and intrusive thoughts distracting him.

“Do you want your meds?”

Ocelot nods slowly, sweat breaking over his skin and acid on his tongue.

Kaz is back some time later. It might have been a couple of minutes or an hour for as much Ocelot can figure. He talks slowly and quietly as he tightens a tourniquet, feels for a vein, disinfects Ocelot’s arm. Ocelot has no idea what he’s saying, but it doesn’t matter. He will soon enough. He watches as Kaz uncaps the syringe, pierces the vial, draws a dose. It’s small and accurate movements, easy to follow. The needle slides into his flesh even though he barely can feel it, the brown fluid is pumped into his vein.

Kaz gently pulls him between his legs to lie on his chest when he’s done and has applied a plaster to the bead of blood, slowly threading his fingers in his hair.

Years of weaponized dissociation and drugs can’t be fixed with good food and rest, no matter how much they wish they could, and no amount of antipsychotics and antidepressants can truly manage the extensive damage Ocelot did to his own brain.

But they can stop it from getting worse, at least. Kaz can tell when Ocelot starts dissociating or hallucinating, and even Catherine has learned to notice when her dad gets weird. She has, on occasion, kept him distracted with toys until Kaz came home from errands.

“Do you remember that Foxhound mission in Serbia? What year was it?”

“’91,” says Ocelot quietly. It helps when Kaz talks about old things that have actually happened. Keeps him grounded.

“Right. We had to get in with the militia but they wouldn’t even talk to me, and you...”

Ocelot chuckles. “I shaved my head and slav-squatted my way into their ranks.”

Kaz’s laughter rumbles into his chest and against Ocelot’s cheek. “You looked just like them. Remember when that subcommander called you old man and...”

“...I pretended to be twenty-nine and _very_ offended.”

“Yeah.” He tucks a long lock of hair behind Ocelot’s ear. “I’m glad you grew it out again.”

“Can’t be outdone,” mutters Ocelot. The voices are already quieting down. The sound of the monsoon that is blowing only in his head is a distant hum, almost calming.

“Let’s head to bed,” says Kaz.

He carries him again, and Ocelot is grateful for his strong arms, their soft bed that smells so familiar, the heavy warm body of DD tucked against his back as he slips into sleep at Kaz’s side, the safest place in the whole world.

***

On the first of June, Benedict McDonnel Miller and “Adam Smith” got married. They had no ceremony, just signed papers at the city hall in Fairbanks. Colonel Campbell and Nadine were their, well, groomspeople. Catherine proudly carried the simple gold bands.

Ocelot took Kaz’s name, and was _ecstatic_ about it. Kaz was genuinely surprised to learn Adam, or more precisely Adamska, was the closest thing he had to a real name.

“Do you want me to call you that?”

Ocelot wasn’t sure. He had a lot of not very happy memories attached to those names.

“I think I’m going to keep calling you Ocelot,” said Kaz, taking his hand and playing with the ring on his finger. “I don’t care for whatever name those monsters gave you. Ocelot is the name you chose for yourself. And the name of the man I fell in love with.”

Nowadays, the only times Kaz calls him Adamska is to let him know he’s in big, big trouble, like the time he burned his precious ceramic pan trying to make breakfast.

Ocelot always thought he was going to die alone on his mission, end up as bones in the undergrowth like his father, as a blank grave like his mother.

Kaz said it was morbid, but Ocelot couldn’t stop smiling every time he thought about having a name on his grave one day.

***

Ocelot feels Kaz wake up, hears the alarm, but he just can’t open his eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” says Kaz quietly, kissing his cheek before getting up.

Ocelot slips drowsily between listening to the sounds of Catherine having breakfast and blackness.

“Bye dad,” she whispers, cracking open the door.

“Be good,” he mumbles.

He probably falls asleep again, because he’s woken by Kaz spooning him, his metal arm a bit cold around his waist.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers in his ear.

“Mm. Normal.” The heavy duty medication gives him a bit of an hangover the day after, but it’s much better than hallucinating John burning in their living room, his eye bright and judging.

“D’ya want to sleep more?”

He stretches slowly. “No. Should get up.”

Kaz hovers around him on the way to the bathroom. Of all the renovations they’ve done to the cabin, the shower is definitely their best work. Cost them quite a bit, but what’s the point of getting a severance payment from the technoilluminati if you don’t spend it on the best shower money can buy? It has massage jets and a seat and fits both of them comfortably. And can be locked and filled like a bathtub - which makes it Kaz’s favorite place when his nerve and muscular pain flares up. Kaz doesn’t remove his prosthetics in the shower today; washes Ocelot’s hair, sits by just in case as Ocelot washes himself.

Ocelot loves being taken care of as much as he loves taking care of Kaz. He doesn’t give a damn if nobody else has ever taken care of him these days, affection and attention don’t feel as raw and scarce as they used to feel when they were new.

He doesn’t need anybody else, only this beautiful stubborn asshole who has never let him stray too far from him.

He feels better after food and coffee. Sits on the porch with DD on his feet, smoking a cigarette and focusing on the trail of smoke, as Kaz shovels he driveway and fixes the snowman’s fallen stick nose. He makes the effort to commit this moment to memory. Maybe one day, the happy quiet memories will outnumber the screaming and the violence. Maybe.

***

Catherine took the situation in stride, like she had taken her parents separating in stride. She was a little sad that she had to change schools, but her mood shifted drastically when she realized she was getting _a dog_.

“Everybody has huskies in my class,” she’d said after her first day. “But nobody has a _wolfdog_.”

She was Kaz’s daughter through and through - smart, social, adaptable, and charming as all hell. It was a real gift to get to spend time with her as opposed to the at best couple of days here and there Ocelot had gotten used to when he had to sneak his way into the Miller household between missions.

Ocelot dropped a glass the first time she called him “dad.”

And after that she very clearly took great joy in calling him dad and watch him fumble and get flustered.

Like he said. Kaz’s daughter, through and through.

He’d gotten used by now, like he’d gotten used to the amounts of physicality an eight years old requires - he had to learn to hug, to carry, to swing, to tickle. Stop being afraid of breaking her, stop thinking of all the ways he was trained to kill the small person in his arms every time he touched her.

Ocelot had never considered the age of his marks to be an issue. And now he laid awake at night thinking about how a monster like him could be trusted with a child.

“I remember the way you were with the Mbele squad, back in ‘84. Those kids loved you.”

“I wasn’t myself in ‘84, Kaz.”

“I don’t know,” said Kaz, absently running a fingertip along Ocelot’s collarbone. “You weren’t much different than you’ve been this past couple of months.”

“It was because I felt safe and had a lot fewer distractions.”

“Kinda like now, isn’t it? Maybe you were the most yourself back then. And your most yourself definitely played soccer with a gang of child soldiers almost every week.”

Ocelot blushed. “So you knew about that.”

“Of course I did.” He kissed his temple. “You will be a good dad.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because you don’t have another option. If you ever, ever hurt her, it won’t matter how much I love you - I _will_ murder you.”

Ocelot had laid there for a while, thinking the unthinkable, and finally said, “Yeah. Same.”

Kaz had twined their fingers together and kissed Ocelot’s knuckles. “See? You’ll be a great dad.”

Ocelot still didn’t quite believe him, but he still went to see Catherine’s teachers at the end of the year with Kaz, still took care of her when she caught the flu, played tea party with her and took her aside and taught her how to shoot with her nerf rifle. Kaz grumbled, but Ocelot was not going to let any daughter of his grip her gun _sideways_.

Ocelot had never before understood the concept of parental pride until he’d heard Catherine stop one of her friends during a nerf shootout in the yard and go, “you don’t need your clip to be full to shoot, don’t waste time!”

Maybe next summer, he could convince Kaz to let her come hunting with them.

***

“Do people do ice fishing here?” he asks, stirring his coffee.

“Yeah, I assume so. It definitely gets cold enough.”

“Cool. I’d like to try that out.”

“You’ve never done it?”

Ocelot rolls his eyes. “As opposed to you, I’m not some forest-dwelling survival expert. And I’m sure I’d still be better than you, like I am with regular fishing.”

“You are _not_ better than me! It was just beginner luck!”

“All those times?”

“Yes!”

Ocelot grins. “So you’d be willing to accept a rematch on ice?”

Kaz leans over the back of the couch to stare him down. “Oh, you’re on.” He pecks his lips quickly and goes back to making lunch.

“Speaking of ice,” says Ocelot, still grinning to himself in his mug. “I assume Catherine can’t skate?”

“Pretty sure, yeah.”

“We should get some skates then, when the lake freezes properly. I’d love to teach her.”

Kaz dumps the pasta into the boiling water. “Of course you can skate.”

“I can ski, too, but skating is a lot more fun when you’re a kid.”

“I wonder if my blade foot can be used to skate.”

Ocelot makes a face. “I don’t think so and you might end up breaking it. We could probably fit a skate over your regular one.”

“That one is kind of crap for exercise though, you know that.”

“I’ll ask around my contacts, maybe we can jury rig something for you.”

DD perks up from his bed where he’d been sleeping most of the day, ears straight and eye bright.

“Oh, she’s back,” smiles Ocelot a couple of minutes before the door opens and Catherine comes inside, thumping her boots free of the snow.

“I’m hoooome!”

“Hope you’re hungry, I’m almost done with lunch.”

“Yes!” she makes to run into the kitchen and is intercepted by Ocelot, who lifts her off the floor.

“Ah-ha, boots off, _Katyusha_. And go wash your hands too.”

Catherine raspberries at him but complies. They wash their hands together and join Kaz in the kitchen just as the pasta is being drained.

After lunch, they will help Catherine do her homework, play until dinner time, maybe watch a movie afterwards. Most days are similar in their new life, and Ocelot was worried, at first, that he wouldn’t be able to handle the boredom.

But it turns out there’s a _lot_ to the world outside of his mission. Catherine grows every day into an interesting, bright and intelligent young woman, there are many walking trails around their cabin, and so, so many books and movies he hasn’t seen, so many _normal_ things to learn. And Kaz still makes him laugh like he did in the eighties.

Sometimes he wonders what would have happened, if he’d chosen the mission over Kaz. He had everything planned, years if not decades of upcoming convoluted intrigue, but he’s starting to slowly forget it in favor of learning how to cook eggs without making them explode and remembering the names of Catherine’s best friends.

In the end, in a way he still defeated the purpose he was created and trained for; and all he had to do, turns out, was choose to be happy.

 

 


End file.
